


The Fair Maiden

by Tozette



Category: Naruto
Genre: A very civilised dragon, Crack, F/F, Medieval AU, Sakura is a dragon, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:10:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2312405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tozette/pseuds/Tozette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr user tiredtanuki requested this AU. </p><p>Basically: Princess Ino has been kidnapped by the terrible dragon Sakura! Brave knights Chouji and Shikamaru must rescue her from the fearsome beast. It... does not go entirely as expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fair Maiden

 

It was late autumn, and the cool air rang with sounds of celebration. Shikamaru could hear the lilt of a flute, the hard shouts and cries of peddlers, the clamour of jugglers and musicians. The streets, usually flat-stamped dirt, were churned and muddy from the crowds. Half of the people in the town seemed to be armed to the teeth, but that could probably be attributed to the tournament rather than any encroaching invasion.

“Chouji,” he tugged on his friend’s collar. He glanced back to see what had distracted him and heaved a sigh. “It’s rat meat,” he said, sniffing, “not mutton. Come on.”

The vendor Chouji had been talking to made a very rude gesture at Shikamaru and was ignored, and Chouji came away to follow Shikamaru, snacking upon honeyed nuts as he went.

“You’re unusually motivated,” Chouji commented, falling into pace with Shikamaru’s uncharacteristically swift stride.

“It’s political,” Shikamaru said with a plaintive note creeping into his tone. “It’s troublesome, but if this stupid marriage doesn’t go ahead we’re all going to war.”

“I wonder why they want Ino,” Chouji said thoughtfully.

Shikamaru had no idea, but he wasn’t about to say it aloud. It would, somehow, find its way back to her.

 

* * *

 

 

“She’s what,” said Shikamaru flatly.

Chouji paused in his snacking.

Inoichi slumped in his throne, one leg slung over the arm, and continued looking terribly, terribly aggrieved. “She’s been kidnapped,” he repeated, rubbing his forehead. “By a dragon.”

Dragons and virgin princesses. For the first time ever, Shikamaru wished Ino had been just a little less honourable. Or, er, a little less well-chaperoned.

“And you want us to rescue her,” Shikamaru said dully.

Inoichi turned a flat, unhappy look upon them. “If she doesn’t get back her in time to be married to Inuzuka,” he said frankly, “I won’t be the only one going to war, boys.”

Yeah, Shikamaru supposed. There was that.

“You’ll do fine,” said a voice from the shadows beside the throne. “Put your crown back on,” he added to Inoichi.

“Thanks, dad,” Shikamaru muttered darkly. Shikaku, as usual, would be no manner of help at all. He was even lazier than Shikamaru, and if there was something he could foist off on his son... well. “How is this even my life?”

“What’re we gonna do?” Chouji asked Shikamaru.

“It gives me a headache,” Inoichi whined, spinning the crown on one finger. “It’s heavy.”

“It’s made of gold, of course it’s heavy.”

“Well, why can’t it be made of wood or something?”

“Because it’s a _crown_ , Inoichi,” Shikaku said through a huge, put-upon sigh. “It’s a symbol of wealth and status, it’s -”

“We could make it out of _rare, expensiv_ e wood,” Inoichi coaxed.

“Come on,” said Shikamaru, rolling his eyes.

 

* * *

 

They stopped at the royal kitchens on the way out for supplies, and also to see Chouza. He was, as usual, terrorising the kitchen staff. In full armour. His halberd was leaning against the far wall.

“Have you considered,” Shikamaru mumbled through a mouthful of soup, which was quite tasty even though it had been over-spiced to hide the aging meat, “ _not_ being a knight?”

Chouza peered over a tray of marchpane at them. “I wanted to be a cook,” he admitted cheerfully and candidly, “but my father said it was either the church or the army.”

Shikamaru was glad _his_ father had made no such limitations. He grunted and put his head down on the table. Chouji and Chouza would be a while yet, but he was full and sleepy.

 

* * *

 

Supplied and provisioned, Shikamaru and Chouji left the capital. Shikamaru did not much like horses, but he liked riding a lot better than walking, so he was relatively content to coexist with them. And, honestly, horses liked _him_ , because he rarely made them go faster than a relaxed amble. Horses, like Shikamaru, were all about priorities.

It was no particular secret that Shikamaru’s own riding horse was a lazy but sweet-tempered palfrey mare, of the sort usually preferred by young women. She was easy to handle, well-trained and not prone to sudden fits of restlessness or leaping or shying, which was all Shikamaru really wanted in a horse.

Unfortunately they’d had to take horses that were least likely to be frightened off by the smell or size of a grown dragon.

Shikamaru was sitting astride a sixteen hand destrier with hooves like dinnerplates, and he was by no means even tempered. He was aggressive. He was restless. He was shaking his head and snorting and trying to take the bit in his teeth at every turn.

And unlike Shikamaru’s own horse, he had a short roach back and straight shoulders and he was possibly the _least comfortable horse_ Shikamaru had ever been exposed to.

He had half a mind to get off, set the brainless animal free and walk the rest of the way.

Chouji, unsurprisingly, had made friends with his horse, largely by sneaking it illicit carrots. It didn’t look like it was any more comfortable, but it was at least not actively trying to make Chouji’s life difficult.

The horse, which had apparently bored of Let’s Toss Our Head Hard Enough To Break Our Rider’s Nose, commenced a rousing game of Let’s Turn In Circles To Bite Our Rider’s Toes.

“Stop,” said Shikamaru finally. “This is ridiculous.”

“Hmm?” Chouji drew his horse to a stop, ignoring how it was cropping grass with the bit still in its mouth, and looked over at Shikamaru, who had already dismounted.

“I’m naming you Brainless,” he informed the horse sourly, giving it a hard smack on the shoulder when it immediately tried to bite him. The horse pawed the dirt and snorted.

Their packhorse, a rather old rouncey of no particular pedigree, was a much more agreeable ride.

The destrier followed along, tugged by his lead line, and seemed bewildered by his sudden demotion to pack animal.

“Won’t the mare be scared of the dragon?” Chouji asked curiously.

“They’ll all be scared of the dragon,” Shikamaru drawled, scratching his belly. _“I’m_ scared of the dragon. It’s a _dragon_.”

Chouji rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “If you say so,” he said, shrugging.

 

* * *

 

  
There was a neat sign, wooden and hand-painted in pink and white, which read: “Home of a dragon. Abandon all hope, you who enter here.”

“Ne,” said Chouji thoughtfully. “I read that somewhere.”

Shikamaru grunted sourly. “It’s from an Italian book, by Durante degli Alighieri,” he said slowly. “It’s relatively recent, practically speaking.” He frowned at the sign, contemplating a dragon who read Latin. As he was eyeballing the sign, something else caught his eye. Beneath the quote, in much smaller writing, somebody had added another line.

“Does that --?”

Chouji, who was closer, had to bend low to read it. “...'if you have already abandoned hope, please disregard this message’.”

“Great,” said Shikamaru. “An educated dragon. With a sense of humour.”

“Maybe we can talk to him,” Chouji suggested.

“I am not optimistic,” said Shikamaru dubiously, feeling that the sign was probably giving good advice.

 

* * *

 

The territory of the dragon, as it happened, was quite lovely. The plants thrived from regular burnings that prompted new growth, and there were very few predators. There was a healthy-looking little herd of sheep, although the second Shikamaru tried to get closer to see if they were abandoned and feral or actually taken care of by somebody he was warned off by the biggest, meanest looking red fox he’d ever seen.

Its growl rumbled in its throat, and the burning gleam of its red eyes meant nothing good.

Right.

Well.

Despite this evidence of civilisation - _weird_ civilisation, but civilisation nonetheless - the dragon lived in a cave.

A cave with a bell.

But still a cave.

Shikamaru contemplated for a second. Their chances of defeating the dragon seemed minimal, honestly, so... perhaps it _would_ be better to try talking first.

He reached out and rang the bell.

“Oh!” said a sweet, feminine voice, from somewhere deep in the cave. “Visitors!”

 

* * *

 

Not that Shikamaru had ever really seen a dragon before, but illustrations and lore led him to expect something quite different. While he was puzzling over the details, Chouji took the opportunity to introduce them. He did so as ‘friends of Ino’s,’ rather than ‘guys here to murder you and take your princess,’ which was probably a good choice on his behalf.

The dragon looked... human. Mostly. She had glossy pink hair, which Shikamaru had never seen on a human, and green eyes of an uncommonly bright shade. Her pupils were slitted, like a cat‘s, and she had a filmy inner eyelid. Her teeth were longer, sharper, and her tongue was long and forked when she tasted the air. Her nails were thick and dark, more like claws than nails, but she had opposable thumbs and dextrous hands.

She showed them her claws and apologetically declined to shake Chouji’s hand.

She invited them inside. She gestured them to a pile of soft furs beside a hot fire pit. She poured them mead.

She was, Shikamaru reflected, an extremely civilised dragon.

“Ino,” she called deeper into the cave, “Ino, some friends of yours are here.” There was a rustle and a clatter from somewhere out of view, indicating that Ino was probably on her way.  
The dragon gave a satisfied smile and set about fiddling with her bottle of mead. She poured herself a cup last, but drank first. Then she breathed in and exhaled a sigh, which came out on a plume of hot, black smoke.

Shikamaru eyed that smoke, drifting toward the ceiling. He had to assume she could breathe fire. That was _not_ good.

“Shika!” Ino cried with a surprisingly delighted laugh. “Chouji!" She broke into an unladylike jog to throw her arms around Chouji’s broad shoulders. “You came to visit?”

Shikamaru took that opportunity to look at her like she was an absolute idiot.

“Oh,” she said, in a voice gone suddenly flat and miserable. “Father sent you.” She rocked back on her heels and retreated toward the dragon.

_Retreated._

_From them._

_Toward the dragon._

Several things became immediately apparent to Shikamaru, and he had a brief but vivid fantasy of beating his head against the wall of the cave until his brains spilled out his ears. “Inoooo,” he said in a low, aggrieved voice.

She scowled fiercely at him. “Shut up,” she hissed, flushing brightly. “I can’t _believe_ you two! I elope and the first time you two visit me is to _drag me back to my father_!”

The dragon frowned, and then as Ino finished her sentence the dragon’s frown melted into alarm. She hooked a clawed hand around Ino’s - tiny, vulnerable, and oh god those claws were _so sharp_ \- waist and drew her closer.

Ino went willingly, scowling at her friends, until she was curled with her thigh pressed up against the dragon’s, shoulder to shoulder, their hair mingling in a spill of pink and gold.

“You can’t take her,” the dragon said flatly.

“So you’re keeping her here? You did kidnap her?” Chouji asked, eyeing her. He had that expression on his face like he was about to do something terribly stupid, but it was going to be The Right Thing, and it had to be done. Shikamaru flinched pre-emptively. He did not want to fight a dragon. 

“She can _leave_ ,” the dragon clarified, “but you can’t _take_ her.”

“Oh,” said Chouji. “Well, that’s okay then.”

“No,” said Shikamaru, from behind his hands, which were shielding his eyes from the horrible situation he’d just walked into, “it’s not okay. We _have_ to take her back.”

Ino made a noise a little like a teakettle boiling over. “I am _right here_ ,” she snapped.

The dragon cuddled slightly closer in acknowledgement of this comment. “Ne,” she added with a puzzled expression, “I thought the humans wouldn’t want her if she wasn’t a virgin?”

Shikamaru’s brain came screeching to a halt. Oh, _god._

 _That’s it,_ he thought, _we’re going to war._

“We’re all going to die,” he muttered.

“ _Sakura_!” Ino yelped, terribly unladylike, and she smacked the dragon on the arm with one hand. “You can’t just --!”

“What?” the dragon peered over at her, rubbing her arm as though it hurt. “But you said -”Within seconds a bruise had formed, and, also within seconds, it swiftly disappeared.

Yeah, Shikamaru thought, eyeing her and her magically healing bruises. Slaying this dragon was going to be a problem.

He would even go so far as to say that they had a very, very low probability of success if they had to fight with her.

The ladies - inasmuch as the dragon, or indeed Ino, could be called ladies - were having a hissed conference.

“It’s not polite,” Ino hissed.

“Oh. Sorry. I just -”

“I know you just, but --”

“Right. Sorry, Ino-chan,” she said, ducking her head so her hair fell forward.

“These are good,” Chouji interjected, swiftly changing the topic from _the state of Ino’s hymen_ , which was not a thing Shikamaru had ever expected to have to think about. Thank god. “What are they made of?”

“Oh,” said the dragon, leaning forward and snagging one of the snacks for herself. “You have to fly over the water to get them. They’re a kind of root vegetable, sliced and fried in animal fat, then salted.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “They’re good. You could sell these for a lot,” he added, chewing.

“Really,” said the dragon thoughtfully.

“What does it matter to a dragon?” Shikamaru wondered, glancing around her cave. Sure, it was nice - for a cave. Fire in the pit, furs on the ground, a little bouquet of flowers in a hastily-carved wooden cup - that, he suspected, was Ino’s work. The dragon didn’t seem like she’d care. The bottle and cups were really the only civilised things in the place, if you didn’t count Ino.

(Civilised was not usually the word Shikamaru used for Ino. The dragon, he suspected, was kind of nicer than she was.)

“It doesn’t,” the dragon agreed, unoffended. Ino, on the other hand, glowered fiercely at him like he wasn’t here _specifically to rescue her_ , because she was always, _always_ thankless and demanding.

“But I intend to keep my human,” the dragon said, reaching out and tugging Ino close by a lock of golden hair.

Ino went without any protest, leaning into the dragon’s furnacelike warmth. The dragon rubbed her face against Ino’s cheek and made a rumbling sound of pleasure. “Humans,” she went on with lowered eyelids and glittering eyes, “I have on authority, require more than furs and fire and fresh meat.”

“Usually,” Shikamaru agreed, watching Ino.

“It would be good to have an income, then,” the dragon pointed out. Shikamaru was only half listening. Ino really didn’t seem like she was going anywhere.

He heaved a sigh. “This is so troublesome.”

“You seem fine,” Chouji said to Ino.

“I am so much better than fine,” she responded, with a smile that was all sharp edges and teeth.

“Good. But,” Chouji said, “if you don’t marry Inuzuka, we’re going to have to go to war.”

“Oh,” said the dragon thoughtfully. “With the dog people?”

“Yes,” said Shikamaru dully. “The dog people.” That was as good a word as any for the Inuzuka, who were largely berserker savages. Their ‘dogs’ were armoured beasts at least hip-height, and they all fought in organised, vicious packs.

“Have you _met_ Inuzuka Kiba?” Ino asked, a little despairingly.

“No,” the dragon answered.

“Yes,” sighed Shikamaru and Chouji.

“He has teeth as big as yours,” Ino said to the dragon, with huge wobbling blue eyes, which Shikamaru knew were mostly acting on her part. “And his dog eats the fallen upon the battlefield. And he doesn’t _bathe_ , and he swears and drinks and - and -”

“Clearly,” said the dragon in a tone Shikamaru most definitely did not like, “this person is not an appropriate match for the princess.”

“It’s a political marriage,” Shikamaru pointed out. “They don’t even have to see each other if they don’t want.”

“If _he_ doesn’t want,” Ino corrected. “Sakura-chan, I’ll have to _have his babies_.”

The dragon scowled fiercely at Shikamaru. “I thought you were her friends,” she said in a dark and terrible voice. The shadows thrown by the fire hastened, shifting and dancing on the cave walls as her ire rose.

Shikamaru contemplated the possibility of explaining the facts of court life to a dragon - a clever, Latin-reading, mead-drinking dragon, to be sure, but still, a _dragon_ \- and quickly abandoned that idea. “Look,” he said finally, “if you can figure out a way to keep her _and_ avoid our country going to war with the Inuzuka, I’m all for it.”

The dragon paused thoughtfully.

Ino gave her a hopeful look. Her lip wobbled, her eyes glistened. The curve of her pale neck caught the light just so. She peered at the dragon through a spill of glittering golden hair.

Shikamaru fought the urge to avert his eyes from the spectacle. Ino had been using her looks as a weapon for as long as she’d been alive. (Mostly, it had to be said, against her father.)

“Yeah,” said the dragon, with a smile curling her lips, “I think that can be arranged.”

“No killing people,” Shikamaru said quickly.

“Not many,” she countered.

He hesitated.

It would be better than a war, he supposed. He nodded.

She couldn’t shake without risking his skin, so they slapped palms carefully, and then he and Chouji descended back down her mountain, past the hulking fire-eyed fox, past the strange sign, and back to their own kingdom.

* * *

 

“Shikamaru, I do not see my daughter,” Inoichi said flatly.

“Yeah,” Shikamaru said slowly. “About that...”

* * *

 

Shikamaru supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when the fields burned. The livestock died by the hundreds. The Inuzuka appeared to be equally affected, at least, and accusations were flying, the situation between their territories horribly tense.

“This is what you get for making deals with _dragons_ ,” he muttered, covering his head with his hands.

Beside him, Chouji munched on another nut. “I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “She didn’t seem like a bad sort of dragon.”

“Is there a good sort of dragon?” Shikamaru asked blearily.

Chouji shrugged. “If there is, she seemed like that sort. Ino likes her.”

“Ino is insane. And also her other option was _Kiba_.”

“That’s true.”

 

* * *

 

The dragon arrived in the throne room on a hot breath of air with her huge leathery body shifting and popping as she descended from the vaulted ceilings.

“So,” she said, once she had collapsed into her mostly-human form, stretching herself out and popping her joints. Inoichi was, for once, sitting straight upon his throne, although his crown was nowhere in evidence. “I hear you and the dog people are having kind of a bad time, food-wise.”

“Because you keep _burning_ it,” Inoichi pointed out very, very sourly.

“To be fair,” she said, “you can’t prove that.”

“I’m the king,” he responded pointedly. “I don’t have to prove anything.”

“That’s not very polite,” said the dragon, frowning.

“You _kidnapped my daughter_!”

“ _Eloped_ ," she corrected. "You were going to marry her to a hideous beast-person!”

“Can the dragon really afford to cast aspersions about other people being hideous beasts?” Shikaku wondered.

“Uh, yes,” the dragon said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen the dog people. Believe me: _yes_. I think we’re getting away from the point, though, gentlemen,” she went on.

“Which is what?” Inoichi prompted.

“Which is that I’m the only person in the immediate area with enough food to feed you and the Inuzuka this winter,” she said smugly.

Inoichi stared at her for a few long seconds. “You want to trade with us? For food that you _stole_?”

“I didn’t steal it,” she sniffed. “It’s not _my_ fault your crops all burned down.”

“Yes,” said Inoichi incredulously, “yes it is.”

“Look, do you want to eat this winter or not?”

“What choice do we have?” Inoichi muttered.

Smiling, the dragon produced roll of vellum on which was carefully penned a contract. “There’s always a choice,” she informed him solemnly, “true, you have a lot of _bad_ choices you could make, but you could still make them. Even I can’t take that away from you.”

Inoichi glowered at her. “I assume,” he said, eyeing the contract, “you’re going to be presenting Tsume with a similar offer.”

“Identical,” she agreed cheerfully. “Neither of you gets to eat if you don’t stop hitting each other.”

“Crude,” Shikaku mused, “but effective.”

Inoichi hissed something very offensive at him.

“Yes, well,” said Shikaku, straightening up. “I’ve got to go. I think it’s high time I had a _discussion_ with my son.”

Inoichi muttered something unflattering and waved him off. “And Ino?” he asked when his adviser had closed the door behind him.

The dragon shrugged. “You can visit, if you want to see her. I’m not stopping you. If you bring an army, well, that’s your own damned fault.”

And then she turned away.

* * *

 

“Again?” Sakura asked, two years later.

“Again,” sighed Shikamaru, pulling his cloak off as he entered the cave. “It’s the middle of winter,” he muttered, extending his hands to the fire pit and shivering as the warmth washed over him.

Sakura, gracious host that she was, threw a fire-warmed fur over Chouji’s shoulders.

“Oh, you poor things,” she cooed, and then spat a gob of fire into the pit, making the flames rise higher and burn hotter. “Ino-chan!” she called cheerfully, “Chouji and Shika have come to visit!”

“ _Again_?” Ino demanded from deeper in the cave. “Are you here to rescue me _again_?”

“Inoichi keeps sending us,” Shikamaru said in a defeated tone, huddling closer to the pit. “It’s _so cold_ ,” he added sadly.

Ino appeared in the front area of their cave, wrapped in layers of silk and fur, an embroidery hoop in one hand. “It’s the middle of winter.”

“That’s what I said,” Chouji agreed, shivering closer to the fire, while Shikamaru pulled out and began to set up a wooden game board nearby.

“Don’t burn yourself,” Sakura cautioned. She seemed to have basically no idea about how flammable humans were or were not, and it showed in her twitching concern every time one of them got too close to her fire. She was, for a dragon, rather sweet.

“It’s _snowing_ ,” Ino pointed out.

“I said that,” Chouji agreed.

“You could have _died_ ,” she added.

“I said that, too,” he nodded sadly.

“They still haven’t forgiven you for siding with the dragon,” Ino surmised, putting her hands on her hips.

“Pretty much,” said Shikamaru. He gestured Chouji toward the board.

“Well,” Sakura said, shaking her head, “you’ll have to wait out the storm, at the very least. Perhaps you should stay for the rest of winter?”

“Sure,” said Shikamaru, contemplating one of his generals.

“Won’t they think she’s killed us?” Chouji wondered. Sakura set herself between the cave opening and the humans, radiating warmth and watching them all with lazily possessive eyes.

“I’ll send a letter,” Shikamaru said absently. He was already looking forward to another month of not doing anything for the king, where he could lie around in piles of furs next to a roaring fire all winter, alternating between napping in the warmth and playing shougi.

**Author's Note:**

> Potatoes weren't a thing in Europe at this time. Which is not to say that this is at all time-accurate. Teakettles also weren't a thing, but it doesn't stop Ino from sounding like one...
> 
> Um, anyway! Comments _always_ appreciated. This silly prompt totally lit my brain on fire and I sat down and wrote it in like an hour, so if you spot any dumb typos let me know etc etc


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